


i know a thunderstorm is about to start

by spearb99



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Both are lonely, Dissociation, Hospital, Injury, M/M, Metaphors, angsty, changbin is a skater boy, changbin is bad at communication, ig u could say there is some love, jisung is quite interesting, terrible actually, this fic has absolutely no significance, this is kinda vague, word vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:55:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26277526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spearb99/pseuds/spearb99
Summary: it's something between 3 and almost 5 am, there's a storm outside and changbin wants jisung to take him home.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Seo Changbin
Kudos: 10





	i know a thunderstorm is about to start

**Author's Note:**

> hi please do not overanalyze (: 
> 
> eng is not my mother tongue so i apologize for any mistake
> 
> enjoy

The storm unsettled the sky with such rage, as if everything under it was dirty and sinful, and nothing really worth the mercy. The thunderstorms were the enchanting and deafening melody of disaster, the lightning blinding the weak souls for unholy seconds. It was quite mocking and malicious the way the male laughed to himself, toking up a joint and staring at the sky, as if saying “what you gonna do? Fall above me?” 

The rain was harmless to him. He was way stronger. So he’d just stay there for a couple of minutes, enjoying the feeling of being indestructive, enjoying his fake peace of mind, wondering if any fallen angel would collide against the concrete right before his feet. He had a ticklish feeling inside his stomach. The feeling that something new is going to happen. The uncertainty of impetuosity sure was a funny thing. 

There was a sort of plenitude the way the world was rebelling against itself. It felt like things are finally going the way they are supposed to. It's like opening a 3rd eye.

Things change too fast. Why do people mind trying to go along with it? It was just like trying to touch a star that died years ago. He was glad for being nothing but a floating flow of thoughts, without a stupid human body to limit him. A painting without a frame to compact the immensity of the colours and everything that comes with it. He was nothing but an _idea_ , maybe a feeling. And he wanted to keep it that way.

And since no angel had fallen before his feet, he got inside, replacing his blunt with a slightly smashed tutti frutti lollipop previously hidden inside his pocket, trying his best to look as _decent_ as possible. He might not be able to hide the fact he is a walking mess, but maybe, _just maybe_ , he could pretend he got the tiniest bit of _self-control_. 

He tucked his hands inside the pockets of his dark greyish, shabby hoodie. His steps were gangling. It felt like adapting to a body that isn’t his. He felt stupid and he really was. All soaked, dirty and gawky like that… He hated to look weak and vulnerable.

He wasn’t. 

The saturated amount of white made him flinch and he led his hands up to his temples. Moon baths don’t clean your soul, he had heard it before, back then when he was a dreamer and the skies were clearer and the lollipops were sweeter. Back then when he actually was weak and vulnerable. He has something to add now. Neither does the sea. 

Things change too fast.

Growing up felt like becoming colourblind. 

Sometimes sleepless nights are not a good idea. Like this time. Everything was wet and cold and grey outside. And everything was blank, cold and dry inside. Awful both ways. He had nowhere to go to avoid the present and there were _real_ people around him to cross the line of the reality and his headspace scenarious and fuck everything up. 

“The moon tastes different every night.” His voice was hoarse and weird but he didn’t care. His words tasted bitter on his tongue. It has been like that for a while. Slowly, the male sat down on the cold, light beige sofa next to the hospital bed, the storm wasn’t so loud inside and for some unknown reason he didn’t like that, at all. The typical smell of sickness and farewells were flooding his nostrils, but he was way too intoxicated of both of them to bring himself to care. Stars exploding were too far away to be felt.

The silence was eating everything, it was digesting his best friend. For eternities. And this lollipop had an odd sour taste.

“Dude, do not start with your cryptic stuff right now.” Changbin’s voice was even worse. It had been weeks since he said a word. Weeks since Jisung was wandering blindly. “That lollipop was mine, Jisung.” Although he sounded hurt and upset, Jisung knew he wasn’t worried about the lollipop. Changbin wasn’t even facing him. His eyes were magnetized by the thunderstorm outside. He was staring so intensely, as if begging for the storm to purify him.

Once, Changbin told him he was quiet for simply having nothing to say. But that was a lie. Because he doesn’t reply when Jisung makes him questions too. Like how was your day today?, are you hungry?, what was the last time you fell asleep?, do you think the sea is still in love with the moon?, yo how long have you been staring at the wall? The time went on with his head full of doubts. And he was kinda getting used to that. Maybe it’s better this way, right?! Maybe he should keep it that way! Humanity is actually naive for thinking the knowledgement could ever comfort. 

“You are really dumb, you know that, don’t you?” The younger laughed but he was so bitter, his insides were deteriorating, his soul was acid. He could tell the taste of his best friend’s tongue right now. It was just like his smell. His melody. His colours. It was pure and debilitating melancholy. Han could feel it on his bones, pulsating. And he was trying his best to not blame himself, although he damn knows it has nothing with him. It’s just Changbin. Maybe some of us were simply born dead. And the other ones have just to live with it. Live with the fact they love a ghost. He was ok with that. Because they still can experience death together.

And what Changbin doesn’t know about life, Jisung can tell him. Sing him. Paint him. Dance him. Jisung can do it for _him_. Jisung can do _anything_ for him. 

The younger’s hands were cold and it was quite uncomfortable the smell of saline travelling in between his dissociated, fluid senses. Maybe a very tiny part of him was terrified of tomorrow day. The sun will rise soon, and everything will be so different from the way it is now. He was kinda afraid of the sun. One day it will rise and decide to burn it all. Anyday. Everything would be fully consumed by flames and the screams of agony would echoe in the four corners of the world. Anyday.

He has been running so fast for the past few years, flying almost, passing through everything solid, waving goodbye to every known face and leaving behind all the promises he had made. He has been running so fast he is afraid of tripping. He’s just not used to the fall. The road was as addictive as heroin and he wasn’t strong the way he thought he was when he first decided to play this game. 

His eyes landed at the colourless food his best friend rejected and a wave of despair hit him from the back. Would Changbin reject him if he lost his colours too?

“Really, I’m throwing away your stupid skate. It’s very dangerous for dumb people, if you haven’t figure out this yet.” Seo has always been the kind of person who eats his fears when it troubles him. As a child, it was quite desperating for his parents, he’d just put inside his mouth inedible stuff all the time. The thing is… He was no longer afraid of tangible things, Han didn’t know what he was actually afraid of now, he just knew Changbin was suffocating. He had eaten something he couldn’t swallow. 

“I’m starving.” 

“I’ll cook us something because your food tastes like Play-Doh”. Jisung is mad and he knows the older also knows that. He should be more careful. A broken bone is too much even for someone like Changbin. It’s not like it had never happened before, but _damn_. Sometimes sleepless nights are really _not_ a good idea. Like _this_ time. Jisung just wanted a joint and Changbin’s company at the abandoned skatepark of their neighborhood. It was that simple. He really enjoys the small period of time where nothing really felt real, the only time able to taste the privilege of being a nameless, unknown face, of being too distant to be reached, almost a ghost. He didn’t know a visit to the hospital would come along this time. “Hey, have you noticed how the sky breaks down every time you get hospitalized?” Han hated how he didn’t sound mad this time, neither bitter. But well maybe he just wasn’t anymore. Maybe he was even feeling a little bit of _empathy_ for the small, doll-like boy lying down over the white sheets, degusting his pain, being eaten by his thoughts just like corpses are eaten by worms. 

“You overanalyze everything.” Jisung had heard so many times to give up on him. To let Changbin’s solitude eat him bit by bit and throw him away deep inside the infinite numbness of the void. Or to ghost him multiple times until he finally goes away. Or to simply tell him to fuck off. And why? Oh well, obviously because all of them had given up before. They were just waiting Jisung’s turn. 

“That’s called ‘processing information’, it’s basically just putting my cognitive system to work a little harder, you should try it anytime.” Ok, maybe he was still mad. But just because he got really worried and desperate seeing how much blood was coming out of his best friend and how bad he was trying to hide his pain. He felt like such a dick.. 

Changbin was so much more than Jisung would ever deserve. Like yeah sure, he’d become mute all of a sudden for foreign reasons to Jisung and spend weeks at his own little headspace world, acting like a little bitch and contributing to the chaos for fun, but he was so much more than that. He may be dumb and clumsy too, literally incapacable of being unsupervisioned for more than 24h and a threat to himself, but he was still more than all of that. It’s just that… The only thing filling Han’s loneliness was _Changbin_ ’s loneliness. Their void feeds each other. 

“Ji…” It wasn’t storming anymore, and the pouty, vulnerable voice of Seo Changbin distanced Jisung from his thoughts. The only fallen angel was the one murmuring his name, broken and homesick, looking so tiny and fragile and unstable that Jisung felt a sting on his stomach. It wasn’t storming anymore, and the world had lost the battle against itself. “Can you take me home?”

**Author's Note:**

> i am sorry ig lmao


End file.
